You’re never once a priority,
You know you’re just used and consulted; a mere commodity
But yet, they’re always top of your mind
And you keep on killing yourself to keep them dined and wined.
It’s hard to figure out why you place them so high,
Or why you do everything you can to satisfy.
While you break your back to show them what love’s about,
They dont care, they grumble and shout
“Not enough, never enough, you’re not doing well,
You make me sick, you can just go to hell”.
The words pierce deep into your soul- you’re almost dead inside
Perhaps, the cure is a knife or a tiny dose of cyanide.
A chuckle escapes as you shake your pretty head,
For what good is the world when an amazing soul is dead?
The thoughts can’t stay, you’re a fighter; a strong soul,
You shake them off, the depression just failed in its goal
You’ve pushed past the pain and go to your happy place
To get the urge to keep going and keep that smile on your face